Going Home (The Green Bayou Novels Book 1) Page 4

  I offer a sincere smile. “Not at all. Would I know them from school or anything?”

  “Nah. Bert didn’t go to school with us. Here we are.” He turns the truck into a shell parking lot and stops about a foot from the newly renovated building. The outside is purposely distressed to look like an old Cajun house. The exterior walls are covered with aged greenish-blue cypress panels, and we must walk up a few wooden steps to get onto the front porch. Two large wooden rocking chairs sit with a checkerboard table set up between them.

  The springs of the old-time screen door groan in protest when Pete pulls on the rusty handle that leads into the restaurant. Except for a small glass counter with a cash register, the room is filled with row after row of newspaper-covered tables. Fish nets and fake crabs adorn the walls, and though no one is smoking in the building, a hazy fog hangs in the large open room. The spices used to boil the seafood catch in my throat like a blast from a pepper spray canister. The crabs are going to be extra delicious! My mouth begins to water.

  There are only two other customers in the building, and they are so enthralled in their conversation they don’t notice us walk in. Pete leads me to their table, and once we’re standing beside them, the attractive couple rises to greet us.

  Pete introduces the man as Bertrand Hebert, and he shakes my hand and insists I call him Bert. He, in turn, introduces me to the petite red head standing next to him, his wife, Connie. While Pete and Bert work to join two small tables together to make one larger one, Connie and I exchange niceties. She’s bubbly and pleasant, and I know we have the potential to become good friends.

  Once the tables are situated, Pete orders two dozen boiled crabs, boiled potatoes, and boiled corn on the cob, while Bert asks for beers all around. The young waitress, who looks like she wants to be anywhere but here waiting on us, nods that she’s heard the request. She turns on her heel to shout our order through the swinging kitchen door.

  “Will y’all need any dip or stuff like that?” she yells from across the room, loudly smacking and popping her gum as she waits for our reply. We all look at each other and nod. She pops one final pop, and then pushes the swinging door to enter the kitchen.

  The lazy waitress unenthusiastically hands out little plastic bowls of seafood dipping sauce when an elderly man with long, stringy gray hair and a slight limp appears from the kitchen. He carries two large trays piled with steaming crabs. Placing one on each table, he gives us a big toothless smile.

  “Y’all be needin’ anything else?” he asks.

  “Don’t think so, except the beers we ordered,” Pete answers.

  “Brandy! Beer! Now!” he yells. “She’ll get it right out to ya, folks.” He chuckles and retreats back to the kitchen.

  Rolling her eyes and sighing loudly, Brandy the waitress plops the beers in front of us. Without bothering to ask if we need anything else, she disappears into the kitchen, too. We stare at each other, and the disbelief over the gall of the young waitress gives way to laughter. We dig into the food on the trays before us, and since there is no sexy way to eat a crab, I pick one up, smashing and cracking into it with no shame.

  “So Bert, how do you and Pete know each other?” I inquire.

  “We work the same shift. I patrol one end of the parish, and Pete patrols the other. I hear you’re going to be working in Bienville, so chances are good that we’ll run into each other. That’s the area I’m in the most,” Bert answers.

  “Good to know.” I smile. “What about you, Connie?” I ask, banging on a claw with the back end of a butter knife to crack it.

  “I work as a nurse for a local doctor’s office whose clientele is ninety percent elderly patients. Glamourous, I know. I get to see asses and saggy skin all day, but I suppose it’s rewarding in its own way. I really love my patients. You and I won’t see each other much because you don’t normally bring patients to the doctor’s office, but I hope we can get together and do something on one of our days off,” Connie says excitedly.

  “I’d love that! I grew up here, but all of my high school friends have moved away. It’ll be nice to have a friend to hit the stores with. Do you like to shop?” I ask.

  “Girl, I put the hop in shop. Bert says he feels like a ricocheting bullet when he goes shopping with me.” She leans toward me to whisper, “I tend to bounce from store to store a lot.”

  “After all this time, I realize you’ve been mishearing me, sweetie. I said I hope to get hit by a ricocheting bullet when I go shopping with you,” Bert corrects Connie.

  “Don’t say things like that!” Connie snaps. “You know with your profession that’s one of my biggest concerns.” She leans forward to pinch Bert’s cheek. “Plus, I’ve invested too much time getting you the way I want you. Don’t need you going off and dying on me.” She gives Bert a playful shove.

  Pete laughs, and I’m happy to learn that Connie is a kidder. We’ll definitely get along!

  “So Connie, how much time does a person need to invest to get a man exactly where she wants him?” I tease.

  “It all depends on what you’ve got to work with, girl. Some take longer than others.” She turns her attention to Pete. “Pete, I like this girlfriend! She’s a good sport and obviously a keeper,” Connie says.

  “Connie, stop embarrassing Pete,” Bert half-heartedly insists.

  “Yeah, Connie. Stop embarrassing me. I don’t know how you do it, Bert. We all know what a pain Connie can be, yet you keep bringing her out in public.” Pete quickly slides his chair to get out of her reach.

  “Ah! You will pay for that one, Pete Bergeron,” Connie squeals as she makes a mad dash for him. He makes it into the men’s bathroom before she can get her hands on him. Bert leans closer to me.

  “I hope our picking on each other doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Truly, it’s all in good fun.”

  “It doesn’t bother me at all. I think it’s great. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much fun.”

  I excuse myself to the ladies room so I can wash the remnants of supper from my hands; Connie follows me.

  “Why don’t you and Bert come back to Greenleaf with us?” I offer.

  “As much as I’d love to, we’re going to have to take a rain check. Give me your number before you leave. I’m serious about us going on a shopping trip,” she says, whipping out her phone to input my information. We both have our gazes locked on our phones while walking out to the parking lot.

  Satisfied we have each other’s contact information, I wave goodbye to the couple and notice Pete is holding the truck door open for me. He gets a peck on the cheek. “What’s that for?” he asks with a smile.

  “For inviting Bert and Connie to join us tonight. I think I might have a new best friend.”

  “Oh, really? You got all of that from one dinner?” he teases.

  “Sometimes you just know.”

  “Anything else you just know? Maybe something with regards to an old high school boyfriend?”

  I give him a playful smile. “In regards to you? As a matter of fact, I do. I just know your partner has a great wife.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Not where I was going with that in the least. Always the jokester,” he teases.

  “Some things never change.”

  He turns the pickup onto the circular drive of the plantation, and the headlights skim across the Spanish moss swaying in the ancient oak trees. Eerie shadows reach out across the front porch then fade when he kills the lights. Pete not only helps me from the truck but holds my hand as we walk up the steps of the front porch. He stops just shy of the door and turns to face me.

  “I had fun tonight, Pete. I’m really glad we had the chance to catch up. Thank you,” I say.

  “Yeah, I had a really good time, too,” he agrees. He slowly raises his hand as though he’ll brush my cheek with his fingers, and then swiftly smacks my shoulder. The shock from the swat shows on my face.

  “Damn, mosquitoes!” he grumbles while plucking the now smashed insect from my sh
oulder. It’s not until then that I notice them swarming around us. They are worst around sunset, so I’m shocked by the number still buzzing around this late in the evening. I swat a few more that are intent on making a meal out of me and dig my keys out of my pocket. Pete remains in the doorway.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” I offer, swatting away like a mad woman. He gives a quick shrug and ducks inside.

  “Do you want a beer or something?” I ask, finally giving up chasing the few rogue insects still buzzing around the foyer.

  “Maybe one.” Pete accepts without further elaboration.

  “Well, don’t sound too enthused, now. I wouldn’t want to twist your arm or anything. You do realize you’re free to go if you wish, Mr. Bergeron. Don’t you?” I retort.

  “Don’t you go giving me a hard time, girl,” Pete says with a twinkle in his eye.

  We walk into the kitchen where I grab a beer, and Pete straddles a barstool. I shake my head at him. “Don’t sit there,” I say, shutting the door of the fridge. “Let’s go into the den.”

  Pete puts the stool back under the counter, and we settle on the large brown sectional.

  “So you enjoyed dinner?” he asks, taking a swig from the beer bottle.

  “You’d think that would be obvious given the number of crabs I ate tonight,” I answer. He laughs.

  “It’s a good thing I worked overtime this week. Otherwise, I might not have been able to pay for your crab fest.”

  “Stop!” I say with a smile. “You’re making me feel self-conscious.”

  “You should know better than to feel that way around me. Even though it’s been a long while since we’ve actually talked, I still feel really close to you, Em.”

  I turn my body to face Pete full on and cross my legs in front of me. “I feel that way, too. It’s almost as if time stood still while we were apart. This move had me leery, but being back in this house, spending time with you, meeting up with Grant, all of it feels right. I think I’m meant to be home.”

  He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I experience the same tingly feeling I used to get when we were younger. Changing the subject, I tell him once again how much I enjoyed spending time with Bert and Connie.

  “I can tell they really like you, too. You and Connie as individuals are intimidating enough, but the two of you together…” He shakes his head. “Obviously, I didn’t think this through all the way.”

  “Would you stop with the teasing?” I insist with a laugh. “It’s good to have a new friend in town. I’ve been gone for so long I don’t even know if anyone is left from the old days.” I shrug my shoulders to drive my point home. Pete noisily clears his throat.

  “Obviously, you’re the exception.” I poke him in the chest to emphasize each word. Oh my, it’s rock hard!

  “Ouch! I don’t think such violence is necessary. That’s twice that you’ve hit me.”

  “No, I hit you once. That was a series of pokes. Get your facts straight.” He shoots me a look, and a devious smile curls upon his lips.

  “You should be punished,” Pete announces before lurching his body towards me.

  “You wouldn’t!” I jerk back suddenly, but it’s too late. He’s on top of me, pinning my wrists to the sofa.

  “Oh, yeah. Blast from the past, baby. If I remember right, you actually peed your pants the last time. Where’s that spot again?”

  He removes one hand from my wrist and quickly pins me down so both of my wrists are held by one large hand. He lightly pokes me in various spots along my ribcage, and I writhe underneath him.

  “No Pete!” I plead in between gasps. He finds the spot he’s looking for, and my body tries to buck him off. Involuntary laughter spills out of my mouth, and Pete is thoroughly amused at my laughing/gasping combination. It’s not until I snort that he stops tickling me. I’m still pinned under his weight as he looks deeply into my eyes.

  “It’s good to have you back, Em. I missed you,” he says, his tone turning serious. I swallow hard as I struggle to get my breathing back to normal.

  “I missed you, too. It’s good to be back,” I answer.

  He lowers his head, and testing the waters, he brushes his lips against mine. When I don’t turn away, he kisses me again, deeper and more passionately. If I wasn’t lying on the sofa, my knees would’ve buckled. He pulls away and helps me to sit upright.

  “I’m gonna head out,” he announces, “but I want us to get together again. Okay?”

  “I’d like that. You know you’re welcome here anytime, don’t you?”

  He nods. “Be careful what you wish for.” He gives me a quick wink before making his way to the front door. I thank him for the great evening and get onto my tip toes to kiss him goodbye once more. He smiles before slipping out into the darkness.

  Once I hear his truck pull away, I run upstairs to shower. Not wanting to smell like a fish dock, I scrub extra hard, and then slide on a silky night gown, climb into bed, and have one of the best night’s sleep ever.

  5

  I’m nervous about my first shift in Bienville, which confuses me because it’s not like I’m making some major career change. The venue might be different, but the job is the job. Shift change happens at six in the morning, so twenty minutes before, I pull my car into the drive. I worked eight hour shifts in New Orleans, so a full twenty-four hours is going to take some getting used to. My biggest fear is boredom since I don’t foresee our station getting many calls in this rural an area.

  I’m happy to see Terrell outside loading up his car. He’s all smiles when he sees me getting out of the Camaro.

  “Sweet car!” he says, whistling after the exclamation.

  “Thanks,” I say, beaming. He walks over to check it out. “How was your shift?”

  “Nothing to write home about. Pretty slow,” he answers, turning to walk back to his own newer model Camaro.

  “Good! Well, I guess I’ll go inside and unpack,” I mention, taking my duffel bag from the car. “Hey, Terrell,” I call. “Do you know which bedroom my partner uses?” “Sure do. Jacob uses the one all the way to the back.”

  “Thanks! Guess I’ll see you next shift change.”

  “No problem. You have a good one,” he says, starting the bright yellow car fitted with vanity plates. I wave goodbye as he pulls away, and I’m still smiling when I walk inside the station. Robert Lancon sits at the kitchen table staring into a steaming Styrofoam coffee cup. He glances up long enough to see who has entered the door then looks back down into his cup.

  “Morning,” I cheerily say to the heavy-set bald man sporting a pretty lengthy goatee.

  “Morning,” he says, still not looking up.

  “You’re a man of few words, aren’t you, Robert? I want to work a shift with you just so I can witness you getting a patient history,” I tease, walking toward the hall that leads to the bedrooms. The way his eyebrows arch makes me believe he’s sincerely amused, but I can’t be sure because the faint trace of a smile is gone nearly as soon as it appears.

  I enter the first bedroom, unzip my duffel, and pull out the set of twin sheets I bought to make my bed. I don’t want to seem pushy, so I decide to keep most of my random trinkets and things inside my bag until I figure out the routines of the station. I finish making my bed and move to adjust my ponytail in the mirror over the dresser when I hear an unfamiliar male voice coming from the kitchen.

  “Roberto! Get your ass out of here! Crew change is done. See you in a few days.” I hear whom I presume to be Jacob say.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice. I’m outta here,” Robert says.

  I hear the outside steps groan under his weight then the door slams shut. I’m now alone with my new partner, but before I can leave my room to introduce myself, he begins yelling down the hall.

  “Hey, new partner! Come out, come out, wherever you are! I bet the ladies really enjoy riding in that fine ass car you have out there.”

  I stop primping in the mirror to roll my eyes. Obv
iously, Jacob has no clue that his new partner is a woman. He’s still yelling stuff when I finally walk down the hall. I find him sitting at the kitchen table intently staring at the television while devouring a breakfast burrito. He inhales another mouthful and is about to yell something else down the hall when he realizes I’m in the room with him.

  “Can you believe this shit on TV about…” I know he recognizes me. He grabs a napkin and still stunned as he wipes his face. My new partner is the tall stranger who rescued me from falling at the store.

  “Damn, Carter and Joe! They got me good! I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to finish the bite in his mouth. “I thought I was supposed to be getting a male partner because that’s what I was told. I hope I didn’t make too much of an ass out of myself.” He pushes back from the table and stands to greet me.

  “You’re fine. I’m Emily,” I say, reaching out my hand for a shake.

  “Jacob. Jacob Templet,” he says. “It’s really nice to meet you…again.” He smiles broadly, and looking down, he realizes he’s still holding my hand. “Sorry again,” he says, dropping it suddenly.

  Like Pete, Jacob is a gorgeous man, but the only thing he has in common with Pete feature-wise is height. He has dark chestnut hair, cognac-colored eyes, and a slight five o’clock shadow, and I flush when I realize I’m staring at him.

  I encourage him to finish eating his breakfast while I pull out the chair across from him.

  “Did you have breakfast?” Jacob asks, gesturing towards the refrigerator.

  “Yes, thank you.” An awkward silence hangs in the air.

  “How long…,” we say simultaneously.

  “You first,” Jacob insists with a smile.

  “How long have you worked here?” I ask.

  “Too long,” he jokes. “How long have you been a medic?”

  “Too long,” I tease.

  “Touché. Where are you from?”

  “Green Bayou, although I transferred from New Orleans. I worked there for ten years.”

  “Oh, thank god you’re not a newbie,” he says, dramatically slumping in his seat.